


Wouldn't You Like To Tell Us?

by Catchclaw



Category: Star Wars Sequel Trilogy
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Roommates/Housemates, Arguing, Drunk Sex, F/M, First Time, M/M, Morning After, Multi, Second Time
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-28
Updated: 2019-12-28
Packaged: 2021-02-19 04:23:29
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,370
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22005142
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Catchclaw/pseuds/Catchclaw
Summary: Finn has good ideas sometimes. Damn right he does.
Relationships: Background Rey/Ben Solo, Poe Dameron/Finn, Poe Dameron/Finn/Rey
Comments: 6
Kudos: 151





	Wouldn't You Like To Tell Us?

"Look," Poe says, exasperated. "This really isn’t that complicated."

Rey crosses her arms. There’s some glaring. "Oh yes, it is."

"Guys," Finn says, because he’s tired of them shouting in circles. "Maybe we should let this go of this for now. Or forever. Maybe the rest of eternity, huh? I'm sorry I brought it up."

Poe shoots him a look. It’s not a bad look; it’s a good look, in the right circumstances, like when they’re home alone and the door to their bedroom is closed and the look is accompanied by Poe wearing a smirk and no shirt which it definitely is not today. Today, they’re in the living room having a conversation with Finn’s best friend and their mutual roommate which has already swung from awkward to something way worse.

"No, Finn," Rey says in the same voice she uses when he’s forgotten to take out the trash (the one that makes him a little hot, if he’s honest). "You were right. Ignoring this isn’t an option anymore."

Poe nods. "Exactly. We’ve gotta deal with it once and for all."

"Once and for all?" Finn swallows, or tries to. "That, uh. That sounds kind of final. Kind of scary. Not gonna lie."

Rey sighs. She’s been doing a lot of that. "Maybe you should do the talking, then."

"What?" Terror. He feels actual terror. "No! Poe’s a talker! So are you. Not me!"

"True, but that hasn’t managed to get us anywhere productive in the last half hour, has it?"

"It might have," Poe snaps, "if you’d shut up long enough to listen to what I was saying instead of interrupting every ten seconds."

Rey snorts. "Well, perhaps if you’d have gotten to the damn point instead of beating so far around the bush then we might have--"

 _"Guys_." Finn rubs the line between his eyes. It feels like his stomach’s made of stone. "Come on, seriously. That’s enough."

Their heads swivel towards his and he gets the full effect of Pissed-Off Boyfriend and Angry Best Friend/Roommate and what’s precisely the fucking problem--a big reason they’re having this terrible, no good, nausea-inducing conversation--is that said combo goes straight to his dick.

"Ok, ok," he says, palms open in surrender. "I’ll talk, if you two promise to listen." 

One pair of brown eyes, narrowed. "Fine."

A second, dark and stormy. " _Fine_."

They sit, parallel lines of boiling angst on the couch. It’s Poe’s couch, technically, although Finn helped carry it up the stairs when they first moved in together which he figures makes it half his. There’s an afghan on the back that Rey’s uncle made during his last manic crafting phase and a little wine stain on the arm from last week, the last time that they had people over to celebrate Finn getting promoted. He'd tried to explain that titles changed all the time at non-profits and he hadn't gotten that much of a raise but they'd teamed up against him, Poe and Rey, and he'd come home to a real fucking party. He’d drunk too much fast and and gotten giggly, way too handsy, and oh, man, had Poe really dug that.

"Stop it," he’d said in Finn’s ear, his fingers sneaking up the back of Finn’s shirt. "You keep wiggling around in my lap like that, honey, and who knows what bad things I might do?"

Ok, Poe might’ve been drunk, too.

"Hey," Rey’s voice had said somewhere, later? Was it? "You octopus assholes. You scared off all the guests."

She’d been tipped beside them on the couch holding a glass that Finn clearly remembered as empty and sporting a grin. Plus a serious-looking hickey on the curve of her neck.

"You’re just mad," Poe had said in a sing-song voice, "because Ben left."

"Shut up." She’d punched feebly at his arm, her fist grazing Finn’s side. "I am not. I am thoroughly satisfied with my evening on that front, thanks."

"Oh," Finn had blurted out. "Is that why you’re not wearing a bra?" 

Poe had snorted and Rey had, too, which was when Finn knew for sure she was wasted. She was notoriously serious about her love life, especially her hook-ups with Broody Ben.

She'd tossed a throw pillow at him. "Yeah, Sherlock Finn. It is."

"He take it home in his pocket?" Poe asked. "I would have. God knows you don’t fucking need it." 

"Um," Rey and Finn had said together. "What?"

Poe shrugged, jostling Finn against his hard-on. "You have gorgeous tits, Rey. That’s all I’m saying. You don’t need any underwire bullshit to show them off. Does she, baby?"

It wasn’t like he’d never noticed before. It wasn’t like he might have mentioned it to Poe once, or uh, more than twice. And now, hello, permission for open appreciation from all parties involved? He was kind of required to stare.

"Yeah," he’d said softly, rubbing his cheek against Poe’s. "Rey, they’re so pretty."

Poe made a low, wine-soaked sound. "I bet Solo liked them," he’d said. "I bet that was the first thing he did when he got you alone, wasn’t it? Pop off that fucker and get his mouth on your tits."

"Wouldn’t you like to know?"

Finn felt Poe grin. "Wouldn’t you like to tell us?"

"No," Rey’d said, and then the whole world was sideways because she was up on her knees and she was peeling up her shirt and she was leaning towards them with goddamn lightning in her eyes, saying: "Let me show you."

Now Rey and Poe are sitting side by side again and they aren't naked and they definitely aren't touching and worse, he isn't sandwiched between them, Rey’s silky tits against his chest and Poe’s cock in his ass and their hands folded together over the steel of Finn's dick, groaning as he spurted helplessly against Rey's skin, wave after dark cherry wave that tasted like pinot noir and Rey’s cunt and Poe’s tongue between his teeth, twisting, as Poe finally let it all go and fucking _roared_.

And everything about that night had been awesome until it was, you know, the next day.

"We’re not talking about it," Rey had said sharply outside the bathroom before Finn had gotten out a word. "These things happen, we’re adults, we were drinking, fine. It was a mistake."

No, it wasn’t. Finn was sure of it. Except he was still hung over and real goddamn sore and all he could manage was: "But--!"

Rey waved her hand. "No."

:Oh, she doesn’t wanna talk about it, huh?" Poe had said, furious. Also: mostly still drunk. "Well, fine. Fuck her, Finn."

"I think we already did. Pretty sure that's the problem."

Poe had groaned and reached for a second round of aspirin. "Hilarious. But whatever, shit happens. She wants to pretend like it didn't happen? Let her. Let it go."

But Finn didn’t want to. He still doesn’t. Even though his attempt to force tonight's conversation had gone, well, super bad.

"So," he’d said in the kitchen right after dinner, when Rey happened to ghost through. "You know what, y'all? We can’t pretend the other night didn’t happen, ok? We were all there. We know it. We fucked."

"Jesus, Finn," Poe had sworn.

"Honestly!" Rey'd spat.

But neither of them had run away, nope. They'd followed him to the living room.

They’re too much alike, is the problem. Finn's always known that. They’re both stubborn and used to getting their way, which is fine in a cockpit (Rey) or in a big corporate boardroom (Poe), but here in their very nice but not enormous condo, it hasn’t been great. More than once, they’ve tried to put him in the middle of their bickering, and they bicker about _everything_ : over bills, the general state of the kitchen, over the parties that Poe wants to throw once a month. Finn doesn’t like hearing them snap at each other all the time, ok? It sucks. 

But he loves them both (he's known it forever, but drunk sex made it easier to see) and so he needs them both to a) deal with this shit and b) generally stop yelling at each other period.

Deep breath.

"Ok," Finn says, as calmly as he can. "Look, the other night, a thing happened."

"We know, babe."

"Shut up and let him talk, Dameron."

"And this thing," he goes on, ignoring them, "from my perspective was really, ah. Really great."

Nobody interrupts. It’s a miracle.

"But it’s complicated now," Finn says. "I get that. Because wine logic doesn’t always equal real logic, you know?. Except there’s something here, guys. Between the three of us. I mean, I don’t know if you felt it that night, but I did. I really, really did, and it was fucking amazing, being with both of you." 

They’re both still quiet. He swallows. Oh god.

And then he gets on his knees in front of them; it's embarrassing, ok, but he needs to be able to look them in the eyes when he says this part. "And I get understand that maybe I’m the only one who feels like that, I do, but the thing is, Rey--the thing is, Poe: I love you. Both of you. Like I don’t know how it happened or why or whatever, but I really fucking do."

"Finn." Rey’s hand on his shoulder, small and strong, a jolt; she’d clung to him there as they fucked, as he rocked inside her and her hair spilled against Poe’s chest, each of them touching him, beaming. Finn. "Look at me."

He does.

"It is complicated," she says gently. "It has the potential to be a bloody great mess."

His heart sinks. "I know. Yeah."

"She’s right, babe." Poe’s fingers on his face, stroking. "Things like this are never easy."

"No," Finn says. He bites his lip which, yeah, they’ll both know what that means, but he’ll be damned if he’ll kneel here--kneel! Jesus--and cry. "Like I said, I get it. I just--I kinda wanted to try."

It’s only then, in his moment of maximum bummer, that he realizes how close Rey and Poe are. Not just to him, but to each other. They’re, like, hip-to-hip close, like Poe’s arm is snaked around Rey’s waist close. Like her palm is on his knee. They’re close and they’re looking at him and they’re touching him, a force of connection, and oh, fuck, it’s lovely.

"Your boyfriend can be an asshole," Rey tells him.

"And your best friend," Poe says, touching his thumb to Finn’s lips, "is a massive control freak."

Rey leans towards him and kisses his cheek, lets her mouth drift to Poe’s fingers. "But if it has the potential to be a mess," she murmurs, "there's the same chance it might be beautiful, right? So what the hell--what do you say we give it a try?"

They kiss him together, undress him together, drag him to the bedroom together before he can form the word _Yes._ It's so hot, the two of them working in tandem, that he wants to cry. And when they take turns sucking him and don’t let him come and make out right in front of him, kneeling over his body--yeah, then there are tears.

"Oh, dear," Rey says. She’s licking at his nipples now, slow and lazy, her cunt hot against his thigh. "Did you want something, darling?"

A sound comes out of him, a not-at-all word. It makes Poe bite at his neck and laugh. "Ask her," he says. "Ask her for what you want and maybe you’ll get it."

Rey pets Poe’s back; Finn feels him shiver. "Is that how it is with him? He likes to ask?"

"I hate asking," Finn slurs.

Poe just laughs.

"Hmmm." Rey’s mouth winds its way down to Finn’s, lingers. "Does that mean you’d rather be told?"

Which is how he ends up having his best friend spread over his lap, her back to his chest, while his boyfriend’s head is buried between their legs doing semi-illegal shit with his tongue and when Rey comes, she screams, her nails dug into Poe’s hair and her cheek hot against Finn’s neck, and oh, it’s a domino, he is: one tip and there goes the whole stack.

"Did you really come in my bedclothes?" Rey says after a minute, yanking kind of hard at Poe’s curls. 

He smiles up at them, beatific. "Fuck yes."

"Seriously?" Her body rumbles against Finn’s chest. "Could you not wait? I just washed these sheets."

"Hey!" Poe says. He sits up. His mouth's a wet mess. "It was your idea to fuck in here. Our bed’s a lot bigger. I tried to tell you."

"But mine was closer!"

Finn knocks his forehead against Rey’s shoulder. He’s grinning like an idiot. Maybe he shouldn’t be. His life just got a lot more complicated, didn’t it? Probably.

Poe’s voice is on the rise. "So are you mad that I spunked up your sheets or that I didn’t come in your cunt? Because both can be rectified."

She sucks in a full head of outrage. "Both can be--!" 

"Oh my god," Finn says. He’s shaking with laughter. "You guys! Fucking _stop_."

Rey turns her head and nuzzles his cheek. For all her bark, she's chuckling. "Tch. Tell your boyfriend to stop humping my sheets."

Then Poe’s there, his face arched over Rey’s shoulder. "Tell your girlfriend to listen to me next time, huh?"

Finn grins against his mouth. "You tell her."

"Rey, honey?"

"Yes, Poe?" She winds her arms around his neck and seriously, watching them moon at each other makes Finn’s heart do some seriously schmoopy shit.

Poe’s lips curve. "I think we should listen to our boyfriend more often, don’t you?"

They turn to him together, twin smirks of pure heat, and he might whimper. Maybe. You can't prove anything. But he might.

"Mmmm," Rey hums. "I agree. You have some pretty good ideas sometimes, don’t you, darling?"

Finn grins--is he ever gonna stop at this point? Probably not. Fuck it--and wraps his arms around them both. "Yeah," he says into the warm air between them. "Damn right I do."


End file.
